A predator forced to defend, like a tree uprooted to a planter, slowly dies.
Shane Portwind, the younger half-brother of Barren, is a tall, muscular half-elf with auburn hair pulled back into a messy braid and 5-day stubble over his face and neck. He wears spiked leather armor dyed a deep green that covers most of his body. His face is a patchwork of scars that do him no favors; his mood is often dour, his language terse. On his back are strapped a vicious-looking glaive, a bastard sword, battleaxe, and flail, and a quiver of such beauty and elegance as to seem completely out of place. Despite his failings in manners, he is kind around children and the innocent, and never hesitates to put himself in danger to protect his charges. He has also never failed to put himself in danger for his adventuring partners, though he does not relish it.
Shane would gladly have spent his years as a furrier and leatherworker, bringing hides and meat into Feather Falls to barter, leaving money and food at the doors of families in need, and running with the wolves and sleeping under the stars in his own familiar neck of the woods. Circumstances have forced him into a life for which he was not prepared.
Shane is a damned man. With every fight he draws closer to death as he leaves more and more of his lifesblood spilled on the parched earth. He knows this, and continues forward because he knows without his efforts there would be no survival for Feather Falls, and without his drive there will be no vengeance. A month ago he was considering leaving the party to pursue the Zhentarim on his own, but meeting his father again has drawn him closer to Barren. Now he bides his time and hopes only to hold out long enough to make the slavers pay in blood for every sacrifice he’s made since he set out on his journey.